The Duplex: Epilogue
by njbrennan
Summary: An epilogue (one-shot) to my EAST Alliance fic, The Duplex. Written both for Lady Sybil Lives Day and for the suffering Andith shippers out there. It's takes place a few years after the end of The Duplex. All characters belong to Fellowes. COMPLETE


A/N: Last night, I sat down to write another chapter of _Shipwrecked_, and this came out! Shout out to Brooksie28 for the idea of writing an epilogue/follow-up for my EAST Alliance fic, _The Duplex_. I thought that S/T and E/A shippers needed a good dose of their OTPs during this hellish season for all of us. First Edith and Gregson (blah) and then Tom and Edna (gag)? We need some Anthony and Sybil!

This fic is in honor of Lady Sybil Lives Day and a therapy of sorts for Andith shippers. It's set a few years after the end chapter 5 of _The Duplex._

I hope you enjoy it! And as always, love live EAST and love live the AU :)

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"Syb, it will be fine. It's only one night and the boys will be well looked after by their doting aunt and uncle. We'll pick them up first thing in the morning," Tom told his anxious wife.

Fidgeting in the seat in front of her vanity, Sybil sighed, knowing her husband was right. "I know darling, but we've never been away from them for so long. What if one of them starts to have a meltdown or worse?"

It was her and Tom's second anniversary and surprisingly, their first time celebrating it properly. Patrick, their oldest son, was born teasingly soon after their marriage; nine months after to be precise. On their first wedding anniversary, their boy, who was the spitting image of his mother, with dark brown hair and fierce blue eyes, came down with a severe ear infection, and the couple marked the holiday fretting over their newborn in a hospital room. Soon after, Sybil and Tom learned that they were expecting again and before Patrick turned one-year-old, he became a big brother to little Eamon.

The Branson boys were Irish twins, both in the metaphorical sense and in a nearly literal one, as well. They looked identical in their features and for one week of the year, they were both the same age. Patrick and Eamon were as feisty as their parents and just as loving.

Now, on the second anniversary of their wedding, Sybil and Tom were determined to celebrate, even if it meant leaving their dear sons for a night. At Edith's insistence, she and Anthony would take care of the boys for a night so that Tom and Sybil could have a proper, romantic anniversary. Sybil's maternal separation anxiety was diminished slightly by the fact that her sister and brother-in-law lived just next door. After Sybil and Tom were married, the two couples decided that they'd rather not lose such wonderful real estate, but more importantly, they all seemed to work so cohesively that it just made sense to be neighbors as well as in-laws. Edith moved into Anthony's side after Tom and Sybil's wedding, though she spent nearly all of her time there anyway before. Not even a week later, Edith and Anthony made it official at a registrar's office and marked their matrimony by combining their extensive book collections and traveling to South Africa for two weeks.

Sybil turned to her vanity mirror and fussed with her hair once again. Tom sauntered over to her, grabbed her wrists gently, and pulled his wife up from the stool. "Darling," he purred. "Don't fret. Let's try to have a nice time tonight. I've made reservations at Balthazar for old time's sake and if you're lucky, you might even get an Irish coffee at the end of the night."

Chuckling seductively, Sybil replied, "I really am a fan of that Irish…coffee, you know."

"Oh, I know you are! Why do you think we have two boys born suspiciously close together?" Tom teased as he nuzzled his wife's neck.

"Tom! We'll never get to dinner if you continue your…oooh…your work there! Edith and Anthony are expecting us in a few minutes to drop the…oooh, the boys off," Sybil protested as her husband suckled on her earlobe.

Grinning slyly at the effect he had on his wife, Tom eventually relented. "All right, you drive a hard bargain! I'll go round the troops."

Not long after, Sybil and Tom let themselves into Edith and Anthony's side of the duplex, dressed in formalwear and each carrying a son. Books were literally everywhere; the Strallans didn't need artwork as nearly every available surface was covered in a crammed bookshelf.

"Hello!" Sybil called out. "Edie? Anthony? We're here to drop the boys off."

Anthony called out, "Coming! Be down in a jiff!" Moments later, he hastily came rushing down the stairs, looking like someone had ruffled up his hair and he had attempted to smooth it down with his fingers, but to no avail.

Tom and Sybil exchanged glances and tried their best to suppress giggles. Edith and Anthony had been trying for a baby for the past eighteen months, not long after they were married. But to date, their results had proved futile, though the pair kept at it diligently, a fact of which the Bransons were all too aware given the apparent thinness of the wall separating their duplexes.

"Hi!" Anthony greeted them breathlessly. "Edith will be down in a moment…she's just…uh, freshening up. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No thanks, Uncle Anthony. Sybil and I have reservations tonight," Tom replied as Eamon began to fuss in his arms.

"Oh, yes! Congratulations are in store for the two of you!" Anthony exclaimed.

"Definitely! Many more years to the happy couple," Edith chimed in as she descended the stairwell, her hair slightly askew and her face flushed.

"Thank you, both!" Sybil told them gratefully. "And again, thank you so much for agreeing to watch Patrick and Eamon. Tom and I really appreciate it."

"Nonsense! Edith and I more than happy to look after these little ones," Anthony insisted.

Sybil smiled by way of reply. "Well, there are bottles and baby food in the tote here. I've listed the restaurant's number and the address, and I've written down our mobile numbers in case you blank should something happen. There's also the pediatrician's number and a list of Patrick's allergies. I've brought the Moses basket for Eamon and Tom can set up the travel crib for Patrick to sleep in. There are also some books and a ton of toys in the other tote, but if they run out, just go on over to our side and-"

"Sybil! My goodness, they'll be here a night, not a year! Anthony and I have watched our nephews before," Edith teased.

"I'm sorry, but we've never been gone for so long…a whole night! That's a long time, Edie!"

"Of course it is, but Anthony and I will take good care of them. You just need to focus on celebrating your anniversary with Tom. Let us do the rest!"

Blushing slightly, Sybil nodded. "You're right. I need to relax."

Rubbing his wife's back, Tom agreed, "Of course, dear. But we should probably get going if we're going to make our reservation."

After handing their boys over Edith and Anthony, the Bransons departed for Balthazar. Turning back, Sybil saw Edith and Anthony holding Patrick and Eamon, grabbing their tiny hands and waving to their parents. Sybil felt a brief pang in her heart, but knew that all would be fine and instead, focused the musings of her heart on her dear husband, who walked along with her, his hand wrapped around her waist.

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"Anthony! Grab him…he's about to knock over that vase!" Edith shouted to her husband.

Briskly, Anthony darted up and snatched Patrick up before the mischievous boy could cause any damage to a tribal vase he had bought Edith during their honeymoon in South Africa. "Naughty little chap, aren't you?" Anthony teased Patrick before he blew raspberries onto the boy's stomach. Patrick erupted in giggles, and aunt and uncle grinned in response.

"You'll make a terrific father one day…someday, Anthony, I hope," Edith said as she fed Eamon a bottle.

"And _you_ will make the most wonderful mother…someday _very_ soon," he insisted. Their fertility woes were beginning to take their toll on the couple, Edith especially. While Anthony had resigned himself to a life without children many years prior, Edith had always wanted one or two little ones, a feeling amplified with the birth of her nephews.

Edith smiled weakly, her melancholy thoughts disrupted by the little Irish baby in her arms who signaled that he was done feeding. Throwing a towel over her shoulder, she patted his little back and rocked back and forth. Anthony watched his wife swaying from side to side, soothing Eamon as he cooed, mesmerized entirely. So entranced was he that he almost didn't catch Patrick racing towards the tribal vase yet again.

Grabbing the toddler once more, Anthony said, "I think it's time for a bath, mister!"

Patrick squirmed in Anthony's arms and reached up to grab his nose. "Nee!" he exclaimed, a babble that Tom and Sybil insisted was a version of Anthony. Wincing as the boy squeezed his nose, Anthony muttered to Edith, "Sweet one, I'm going to take this rascal upstairs for a bath. Will you be bringing Eamon up soon, too?"

"I believe so, once I've finished burping him. Sybil was pretty insistent that they be down at a reasonable time and Eamon is starting to look quite sleepy."

"Good. Um, well, we'll be upstairs if you need us," Anthony replied, sensing the faint sadness in his wife's voice as she rocked her nephew back and forth, mourning for the child they didn't have.

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"Sybil, darling, would you stop checking the phone every five minutes? If something is wrong, Edith and Anthony are more than capable to handle it," Tom pleaded to his wife from across the table.

Amidst the clinking of glasses and chatter of restaurant patrons, Sybil could hear the near desperation in Tom's voice. "I'm sorry, but it's just that I…I worry."

Tom smirked. If _that_ wasn't the understatement of the century, he mused.

"Darling, I know and I love you for it. You're such a good mother to our boys. But tonight is about us, not as parents, but as husband and wife."

Sybil exhaled heavily. "I'm so sorry, Tom. You've gone to all this work, getting us a reservation here and everything. I'm sorry. From now on, you have my undivided attention."

Tom reached across the table and grabbed his wife's hand, massaging circles into her palm. "Love, don't ever apologize for being a great mother. Now, let's order up! I'm famished and we'll need our…ahem, our energy for later."

This earned a hearty chuckle from the Englishwoman, but Tom's desirous gaze didn't waver a bit.

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After Edith changed Eamon and lulled him to sleep in the Moses basket set up in her and Anthony's master bedroom, she moseyed down the hall towards their bathroom and found Anthony kneeling in front of the claw foot tub, singing to a soapy-haired Patrick.

_And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue, kissed them and put them there_…

Edith dared not disturb her husband and nephew; instead, she contentedly leaned against the doorframe and listened to her husband sing lullabies in a soft, low voice.

_Oh! the years are many, the years are long, but the little toy friends are true!_

Anthony gently poured water over Patrick's head, careful to shield his eyes from the soap with his hand on the boy's forehead. "Now you're squeaky clean, Paddy!" Anthony told the boy as he lifted him from the tub, into a warm towel and began to dry him off.

As Anthony gathered the little bundle of a toddler up into his arms and stood, he was startled, but no less pleased, to see Edith watching him with a dreamy look about her.

"Oh, I hope you didn't catch my singing," he muttered sheepishly.

"I did," she said, grinning softly.

Anthony blushed slightly. "My, um, my father used to sing it to me when I was a boy and Patrick seems to like it, I think."

"I seem to like it, too," Edith purred before she walked up to him and kissed him on the lips.

Caught between them, Patrick reached up and latched onto Edith's chin. "Eee!" he cried out with glee. While Anthony was "Nee," Edith was apparently "Eee"; all the little one could manage.

Edith and Anthony laughed heartily. "Why don't you put him to bed and I'll meet you downstairs?" Edith offered.

"Yes, ma'am!" Anthony responded as he set off for their bedroom where he and Tom had assembled Patrick's travel crib.

Edith went downstairs and began to tidy up the mess of books and toys and empty bottles. After shoving a good lot of it into Sybil's totes, chuckling to herself at her sister's over-preparation, Edith took the bottles to the sink and quickly began to wash them. She had a plan for the evening, one made abundantly clear when she heard Anthony singing in such a sweet, low voice to their nephew.

While she and Anthony had been technically trying for a baby for the past year and a half, for the last four months or so, they had essentially given up with actively trying. Edith had had enough of the fertility drugs and ovulation calendars, as it had begun to affect her marriage. Their lovemaking became dictated by a schedule and each month, when another pregnancy test came back with that ever-foreboding negative sign, Edith felt like she couldn't do it any longer.

But, after trying rather actively for so long, the Strallans had become accustomed to many "trying sessions" in the past year. So even when they gave up, for lack of a better word, their zeal in the bedroom didn't wane, but became all the more passionate. But even though she told herself that she would be quite content with spending her days just with Anthony, a part of Edith, a very strong part, longed to make a baby with him.

As she moved the bottles to the rack to dry, a pair of strong arms snaked around her waist. Anthony nestled his face into the crook of Edith's neck and inhaled her scent. "Mmhmm, hello, my sweet one," he hummed. "Patrick is fast asleep, as was Eamon when I checked on him."

"Wonderful man," Edith cooed as she turned around in his arms. Anthony grabbed her thighs and wrapped them around his waist as the two took their connubial endeavors towards the sofa in the living room.

"Is this the best idea?" she asked. "The boys are just upstairs and we only just got them down…"

Between kisses that he pressed to his wife's collarbone, Anthony mumbled, "Although you are rather vocal, my dear, I think we can chance it, don't you?"

Roaming her hands around his head and through his blond hair, Edith agreed with her husband's argument. She leaned into him from her place on his lap, eliciting a guttural groan from the man. "Oh, my darling…"

As Edith began to unbutton Anthony's checkered oxford shirt, their landline rang. She paused, debating on whether she should answer it, but sensing his wife's ceasing ministrations, Anthony urged her back to him. "It's probably just a telemarketer, Edie. Let it go to voicemail."

Edith nodded and resumed her work on divesting her husband of his clothing. The ringing stopped, but the voicemail did not pick up. Moments later, the phone began ringing again.

"What if it's Sybil?" Edith asked. "We might give her a heart attack if we don't pick up!"

Reluctantly, Anthony nodded and Edith rolled off of his lap. She picked up the phone and greeted, "Strallan residence…yes, this is she…"

Anthony couldn't make out what the voice on the other line was saying, but when his wife's jaw dropped, he knew that the voice was saying something of great importance.

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After an exquisite meal at Balthazar, both as enchanted with each other as they were when they first went there, Sybil and Tom now found themselves meandering their way back home. Although Edith and Anthony had given them the night off from parenting, the Bransons couldn't help but want to be as near as their boys as they could, even if meant cutting their night a little short. Oh, they would still take Edith up on her offer to watch their sons till morning, make no mind of that! But they both agreed that being one duplex over was far better than spending the night on the town.

Sybil laced her arm through Tom's and leaned into him, savoring the solidity of him. "Darling," she began. "This has been a most enjoyable evening. Perhaps our best anniversary to date!"

"Well I should hope so!" Tom joked. "Last year, we were in hospital with Patrick! Not so romantic, is it?"

"Certainly not, but definitely one of those 'thicker or thin' moments I'm ever so glad you were there for."

"And then at the hospital, you fainted which I chalked up to extreme fatigue and the stress of a newborn sick in a hospital. But ol' Doc Clarkson proved me wrong, didn't he? Before we even took Patrick home, we found out you were expecting Eamon. Perhaps not the most romantic anniversary, but certainly one filled with amazing surprises."

Sybil tightened her grip on her husband's arm and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. "Well, darling, you might just have to get used to spending a lot of anniversaries like that…"

"What do you mean?" he chuckled, not understanding what Sybil meant. "Patrick isn't sick. Neither is Eamon…"

"No, not the hospital bit, thank God. I mean the 'finding out I'm pregnant on our anniversaries' bit. I got a call from Dr. Clarkson this morning, but I suspected last week. I pregnant, Tom!"

Tom stopped dead in his tracks. "Pregnant? Again? But Eamon is just three months…."

"Well, we'll probably have to start using the phrase 'Irish triplets' because I'm already over a month along," she explained. Then, as many expecting mothers feel when telling the father, Sybil felt nerves creep over her. "Are you…are you pleased?"

Tom's face instantly melted and a smile washed over him. "Pleased? Darling, I'm ecstatic! I can't wait for another little one running around our duplex! And now I understand why you didn't drink any wine tonight…you sneaky wife," he said with a wry smile.

"I tried not to be terribly obvious," Sybil explained, instantly relieved. "I've almost forgotten the taste of alcohol, you know!"

Tom laughed as he leaned in to kiss his wife, now the mother of his three children. His lips brushed hers and pulled her waist against his. He didn't care that they were on the street or that people were watching; his world existed only in Sybil and the three little ones they created.

Pulling away, her lips reddened and her eyes glistening, Sybil bit her lip and asked, "Do you think we could go home? I'm suddenly in the mood for an Irish coffee…"

'But darling, those are alcoholic…"

"I don't mean of the alcoholic variety, Tom," Sybil urged, her glistening eyes conveying what she really meant.

"Ah, I see. Well, I think I can fix your craving if I must say…"

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"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you. Goodnight," Edith replied to the voice on the other line. With a shaking hand, she placed the receiver down and sank down on the couch, her knees up to her chest and her hand over her mouth.

Anthony, the ever devoted and worried husband that he was, scooted over nearer to his wife. "Darling, what is it? What's the matter? Is everything all right?"

"That was Dr. Clarkson…"

Anthony's mind reeled. Was something wrong? They had had fertility problems, but what if it was something worse than that? "Is…what did he say, darling?"

"He said that I'm…that I'm pregnant," Edith said, barely believing her own voice or the truth in her words.

"What?!" Anthony blurted out. "I thought that…but we had given up. You stopped taking your fertility medicine and we didn't chart or anything…"

"Dr. Clarkson said that sometimes, stress can be a factor and when you remove it, things go a lot easier. He said that he's seen it with a lot of couples: once they stop trying, they get pregnant soon after. I went in a few days ago complaining of stomach problems and he took some blood tests. I never thought that this would be a possibility," Edith explained, almost as if in a daze. "Is this something you still want? I mean, Patrick and Eamon are exhausting and neither of us is getting younger…"

"Oh, my sweet one, this is what I've wanted all along. Exhausting or not, this little one will be ours and that's all I could ask for. Besides, this baby will not have that Irish feistiness that Patrick and Eamon got from their father; it will be dull and stiff like its English father, that I'm sure of!"

"Oh, Anthony, are you being serious right now?" Edith asked, feeling emotion get the better of her, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Darling, how could I not be? This is the single best news I think I've ever received!"

Edith lunged at him with such force that the two of them fell onto the other side of the couch.

"The babies won't be Irish, but perhaps I should worry about our little one getting its feistiness from its mother!" Anthony teased, causing Edith bite his ear.

"You can tease all you like, Anthony Strallan, because I'm going to take you right here on this couch. How's that for feisty?"

"Works for me," he managed before Edith began to devour his lips and finish her previous ministrations on his oxford shirt. Anthony, too, began loosening her belt between kisses.

"Oh, my darling, I love you so much," he mumbled against her lips.

"I love you, too, Anthony, with my whole heart," Edith replied breathlessly.

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Sybil and Tom walked as quickly as those in a three-legged race back to their duplex, both giddy to get inside and get to proper anniversary celebrating.

"Tom, get the keys out. Let's not waste any time!" Sybil ordered her husband playfully.

"Yes, ma'am!" Tom replied, digging deep into his pockets to fish them out. The Bransons ascended the stairs quickly, nearly skipping a few steps on the journey up. As they approached the door, Sybil found that she couldn't keep her hands or her lips off of the man, and kissed him hard, pressing him against the door.

Startled, Tom dropped the keys, but gave in anyway, thrilled to the core at hearing his wife moan against his mouth. He pulled away for a moment to get the keys and during his time bending down to the ground, Tom heard something unfamiliar.

"Did you hear that, Syb?" he asked as he straightened up.

"I did. It sounds like screaming coming from Edith and Anthony's side. Oh, my, I hope they're not going at it! We need to thicken the walls in this place," Sybil joked.

As Tom was about to agree with his wife and turn towards door again, they heard something shatter on the other side, followed by Eamon's distinct cry, and their eyes widened. They hastily darted to Edith and Anthony's front door, both terrified at what might be happening over there. Tom fumbled with the keys, but found the right one and pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted them was one that would make the Bransons and the Strallans blush for years to come: amidst the shattered remains of a South African tribal vase, Sybil and Tom saw Edith on the couch, pinned underneath her husband, both of them stark naked and drenched in sweat.

"Oh, God!" Sybil exclaimed, alerting her sister and brother-in-law to their disrupted solitude. She turned away, trying to wish the image of her sister's lovemaking away.

Tom, on the other hand, chuckled and threw some blankets their way. Edith and Anthony turned scarlet as they wrapped the blankets around their unclothed, sweaty bodies.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Edith asked, clearly embarrassed and out of breath.

"We…we heard something shatter," Sybil said, looking to the vase, wondering whose rogue limb was the culprit for its destruction. "And then we heard Eamon crying immediately after. We thought something terrible was happening, so we rushed over. Now I can see that you were just…busy with other things. I'll go check on Eamon right now…"

Sybil rushed upstairs, stifling laughter all the way up.

"Sorry about that, you two. We're both a little excitable tonight," Tom explained. "I should probably wait till Sybil gets down, but what the hell? We found out we're expecting again tonight if you can believe it!"

"That's great news, Tom!" Anthony cheered.

Sybil came down with a fussy little boy and said, "You told them already?"

"Sorry love, I couldn't help myself!"

"That's all right. It's not like this is surprising news given the way we behave," she teased.

"Actually," Edith began, still somewhat embarrassed at standing around covered only in a blanket. "Anthony and I have some good news, as well. Fantastic news, actually!"

Sybil needed no further explanation. "Oh, my God! You're pregnant?"

Edith nodded and smiled sheepishly. Sybil was about to rush up and hug her older sister, but as her memory reminded her of what she and Anthony were doing only moments prior, she stopped. "That's wonderful news! I would hug you, but…"

"But I should probably freshen up first," Edith finished with a laugh.

Laughter spread throughout the group, red cheeks as well, and the Bransons thought it high time to excuse themselves.

"We don't mind keeping them here tonight, Sybil and Tom. It's still your anniversary and you need to celebrate properly," Edith insisted.

"She's right," Anthony added as he took Eamon from Sybil. "You two go off and finish your night alone."

"All right, if you insist," Tom conceded with a shrug, hiding the fact that he was very much looking forward to spending the evening with Sybil without early morning feedings to keep them up.

The Bransons waved their goodbyes and left for their side of the duplex.

"Well that was…more than I ever needed to see of my uncle's backside," Tom teased as he opened the door for his wife. "I think I'm haunted!"

"Are you still…in the mood?" Sybil inquired.

Hoping that the turn of events hadn't soured the evening, Tom nervously offered, "I am if you are…"

"For Irish coffee? Always!" Sybil said with a wink as she led her husband by the hand to their bedroom.

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A/N: Whew! That was a long one ;) I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know your thoughts if you can spare the time.

Thanks for reading!  
NJB


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